Distance
by sillym3
Summary: Love knows not distance; it hath no continent; its eyes are for the stars. *Gilbert Parker*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hmmm, season 10, I finally could catch up (Don't ask where I live or how bad the internet connection at my place). This fic is probably my reaction to the whole long-distance-marriage situation. Read, enjoy, and fire those constructive critics;)

**- Distance -**

**Part 1**

"Whoa, BFT."

"Big Freakin'…. Toilet?" Greg made a lucky guess from his spot by the door.

"Big freakin' tent," came Sara's correction as she bent over to take a first look at the body.

"It's not uncommon for dead bodies to sport erections due to muscle contraction." David spoke professionally, checking the body for rigor. "TOD is somewhere around six and eight p.m."

"Whoa! That's a huuuuuuuuuge boner." Greg, who finally arrived at the side of the body, bellowed. "I'll take it you want to process the body." He winked at his ex-mentor.

"I've seen better." Sara winked back; glancing at the body reclined on the chair before starting her walkthrough.

Her words left both David and Greg gasping for air like stranded fish.

/-/-/-/-/

"Dare I say that this man is a handsomer copy of your husband?" Greg spoke from where he was crouching over a book.

Sara, of all people, had already remarked the similarities between this crime scene with Grissom's library. Not just the rows of journals and books, but also the various displays of insects on the walls and the jars of specimen on the selves.

"King Lear. Bet he read it before he died." He took a picture of the book on the floor by the chair. "It probably slipped out of his hands."

She didn't need Greg's comment to be reminded of Grissom. The way the glasses had slipped down the victim's nose, the way he wore his shirt and pants. All were petrifying likenesses that almost scared her.

Almost.

All of her experience on the field had taught her how never to be surprised. Not even by the most bizarre scene.

Yet, she couldn't help the shiver down her spine as she spotted a battered copy of Moby dick in the room. The book was closed, laid beside a wine glass atop the coffee table.

She bagged the glass after sending her husband a text message.

_Hi, I miss you. _

/-/-/-/-/

"Suicide?"

"Huh?" Sara averted her gaze form her cell phone on the layout table. Grissom hadn't replied to her text message. Yet.

"I think it was a pleasurable suicide." Greg waved the bagged glass where he had found no fingerprint but one that belonged to Mr. Taubman, the victim.

"Really?"

"Well, he spiked his own drink with this experimental herb and drug, hoping to launch his rocket up high and ended up blowing nothing but his own heart."

Sara picked up the tox result, reading the row of additives that were in 's system, "Well, let me review the evidence once again, if nothing comes up we might have our first open and shut case this week."

"The man practically had a dozen Viagra tablets in his body, that's consistent with all the toys we found in his closet." Greg made air quotes as the word toys escaped his mouth, "I'd say that this man died of his own fixation."

Then just as Sara expected he grinned at her. "It made me think that your husband has the same interesting collection in his closet as well."

"Ah Greg," Sara rose up, pocketing her phone. "Wouldn't you love to know?"

/-/-/-/-/

Grissom's cell phone was inactive.

Sara considered calling the university as she leaned against the wall, gripping her cell phone in hand. She had tried to call him twice.

They both had seen this coming. Long distance relationship meant problems in communication.

No matter how strong their marriage was, no matter how modern the communication gadgets they had, distance would always be the gray cloud above their relationship.

She knew the risks. And Grissom could forecast the trouble ahead more than she could. That was why he had been so reluctant to let her come back to Vegas. And sometimes, at irritating times like this, she regretted her decision.

Part of her wanted nothing but to stay with him 24/7; to curl up with him in bed in the morning, to share a cup of coffee and a slice of Tarte Tatin, to hear him cite the latest forensic journal before they went to sleep. To do what a husband and wife were supposed to do together.

Another part of her, the more selfish and stubborn part, wanted a life of her own, a proof that Sara Sidle was still Sara Sidle, no matter how in love she was with her man.

Now, after seeing the crime scenes photos for the umpteenth times, she felt her chest tighten until she found it almost impossible to breathe. The image of the entomology text book on Mr. Taubman's nightstand, the mounted blue morpho on the wall, the image of himself, laying cold on the morgue table; all were running in her mind and had her heart screaming her husband's name.

If only she could reach him. If only she could make sure he was okay.

**TBC**

Thank you for reading and special thank you for the kind one who helped me checking through this grammar mess.

Review?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you for reading and reviewing friends, your comments meant a lot to me.

**- ****Distance ****-**

**Part 2**

"He died of his own erection?" Catherine stared at them from behind the stacks of paper above her desk, her maroon jacket wrinkled, her eyes looking tired.

"Sort of." Sara handed Catherine the report file. "George Taubman was a head researcher working for Alves Pharmaceutical. They currently research this new mixture of Sildenafil citrate and herb from Borneo that promises long lasting erections. We also found a bunch of sex paraphernalia in his bedroom that suggested this man was a maniac. "

"Traces of the mixture were found in the wine glass and Mr. Taubman's system contained more Sildenafil, steroid, flavonoid, and half dozen other additives that would have made a porn star jealous." Greg continued. "He died of heart failure due to…," Greg stopped dramatically, "too much excitement."

"We personally do not believe a man as smart as Mr. Taubman would take the risk of testing his own magic concoction." Greg then opened the file in front of Catherine, revealing pictures of a man and a woman. "These are Jocelyn Clauson and Jesse Zibble, both are Taubman's assistants and have access to the experiment."

"We found both their fingerprints on the scene, all on common items like books or door handles. Brass couldn't get through them in the interrogation though, they lawyered up. Both assistants had been in Taubman's place so many times before that the prints wouldn't stand up in court." Greg delivered their conclusion, "it's either they killed him or he killed himself, either way our case is a dead end."

"Sara," Catherine said. "Are you being expected somewhere else?"

"Huh?" The later came out of her reverie, focusing on Catherine. "No. I just-" Her phone vibrated and she hastily fished it out of her pocket.

"Ooh, that's what she's been expecting, a booty call from Pareee." Greg whispered aloud.

The call wasn't from Grissom, just an advertisement message from her service provider. Sara sighed, looking up at Catherine. "I would like to go back to the scene for a second look."

"Your shift is almost over." Catherine remarked. "Mr. Taubman had no relatives. I'd rather have you and Greg help with the backlog."

Sara had to hold back her blow. She wanted a conclusion on her case. She wanted to be able to talk to Grissom or at least for him to reply to her text. She wanted so much, but everything seemed to be going against her will right now.

"Okay." She said after a deep breath. "Which backlog?"

Catherine shuffled for a file, reading it for a few second before speaking again. "Greg, help us profile the DNAs from this three-day-old arson and Sara, I'll notify Al to start the autopsy of our Mrs. Dead bum. She's been down in the morgue for a week."

Both Sara and Greg stood, watching Catherine hurriedly sign their report and put it on top of the stack in front of her before they headed for the door.

"You okay?" Greg asked after they reached the hallway.

"I'm good." Sara squeezed the phone in her hand, as if willpower alone could make it ring. "I just need to make a call."

"I see." Greg smiled. "Love knows not distance; it hath no continent; its eyes are for the stars."

A wan smile was all Sara could give at Greg's rare ability to quote. She pressed the phone to her ear, waving at Greg as she headed down to the morgue.

/-/-/-/-/

"It's the fatal crushing injuries to her chest that killed her."

_Nous sommes désolés Madame, Monsieur Grissom a annulé tous ses cours aujourd'hui._

In Sara's mind, the familiar voice of Al Robbins was replaced by the fluent French of a stranger thousands of miles away.

_Why did the receptionist tell me __Grissom cancelled all his lectures__ for today? __Did I ask__ the wrong question?_

Her six-month stay in Paris hadn't been enough to sharpen her French and Sara doubted she had obtained all the information needed from the receptionist.

She had his entire schedule for this month. He hadn't told her about any changes. Where was he? Why wasn't his phone active? Why hadn't he called her like he always did every day?

Those questions drummed Sara's worrisome mind into panic beats.

"Sara, are you listening?"

"Huh," Sara forced herself to listen. "So, it's internal bleeding."

"Yes." Doc motioned to the opened torso of the dead body. "You see, most of her ribs were fractured, and these two vertebrosternal ribs punctured her lungs. I'd say something very heavy was on her chest when she died."

"She's a bum, sleep everywhere. I'm thinking car accident; crushed by the tyres maybe."

"Not likely," The coroner moved to close the torso, revealing the chest skin. "This bruise wasn't here when the body arrived." He pointed at blue rounded bruise on the victim's chest.

"It looks like something spherical, like this table top in our apartment in Paris." Sara flipped the case file open, examining crime scene photos while her mind wandered back to their Parisian apartment. "No spherical surface in these photos, I'll ask Ray, he processed the scene."

"You do that." Al nodded toward her. "After you get some rest."

Sara frowned.

"Dr. Langston is probably busy anyway, pursuing leads on his two DBs." Al pointed at two other bodies on the tables away from them. "And it seems like you could use some rest."

"I'll manage."

An open smirk graced Al's face. He reached for the lamp above the table and pushed it closer toward Sara's face. "Take a look at yourself. These are quite big bags you sport under your eyes."

Sara did as she was told, noticing how pale and lifeless her reflection was on the chrome surface.

"That and you zoned out on my autopsy, I'm not that dull a speaker."

Sara sighed, admitting defeat. Her hands were clutched at her side as her body swayed slightly forward. Then as if the dam of her mind had been broken, she whispered. "I haven't been able to reach Grissom."

"Oh." Al looked up from the body. "How long? Have you tried the university?"

Her answer was weak. "Since yesterday evening. I've tried the university and our best friends, they don't know. What if… what if-" she didn't have the strength to voice her fear, afraid that it would become reality.

It only took a second for Al to round the table. He enveloped Sara in a loose hug. "Oh dear, distance is a beast. Stop your mind from wandering too far."

"Yeah," Sara nodded, almost unable to hold back tears. "Yeah."

"Why don't you take a rest in the break room," Al mildly suggested, "give me the number of your friend in Paris, your closest one. I'll try to find out Gil's whereabouts."

Just as Sara was about to get her phone from her pocket, it chirped. She answered the call hastily, hoping for Gil to be the one at the other end.

"Hello…" Her voice trembled.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Last part but I hope not the least one. Don't forget to hit the review button after reading;)

**A/N2: **Sylvie, terima kasih banyak:)

**- Distance -**

**Part 3**

"Hello there Mrs. Taubman." The overly giddy voice of Greg Sanders could be heard from the other end.

"Not funny, Greg." Sara hissed.

"Whoa, down girl. I'm just asking you out for a team breakfast. You done with your bum yet?"

"Greg, I can't really talk to you right now." She spat out.

"Okay, okay… sorry… Just meet us upfront when you're done. We'll be waiting."

"'kay." Sara clicked the phone shut only to open it again. "There's this Damien Gossling, our friend at the embassy. And Christophe, Christophe Lefevre, Gil's fellow lecturer." Sara took the proffered paper and pen from Al's hand and scribbled the phone numbers down.

"Good." Al took the paper while smiling reassuringly. "Knowing Gil, he's probably just too busy with his experiments to charge his phone battery. Go get some rest. I'll call you as soon as I have spoken to them."

Sara nodded, more to calm herself than to obey her friend's advice. She climbed up to the main floor, eyes glancing at her phone every now and then.

The break room was occupied by Wendy and Hodges, both laughing merrily. Sara had no choice but to walk away.

She made a stop in the hallway, once again pushing the speed dial button.

_Please, Gil. Please. _

She got no answer but a long steady beep.

The horrible image of a car accident, homicide, robbery, and all dreaded possibilities flashed in front of her. Grissom was practically living alone in Paris with no one to really tend to him. They had friends and colleague, but they were new to them. No one would really notice if one Gil Grissom went missing even for a day.

Mr. Taubman's dead body flashed in front of Sara's mind and she had to fight the urge to vomit. After a while she decided to call again as she continued walking.

Still no answer.

She felt nauseous, yet kept on walking and hit the redial button.

_Freakin' beep. _She swore under her breath.

In anger and in frustration, Sara clicked the phone shut and shoved it down her pocket.

_Maybe Al was right. Maybe he just __forgot__ to charge the battery. Maybe he just had misplaced the cell phone somewhere and too occupied in his job to __notice._

Sara absentmindedly dragged her feet to the front desk, thinking of calling him again after a while.

Greg was leaning against the counter, laughing at something Judy had just said when he spotted her.

"Hi, ready for breakfast?" Greg waved happily.

"No, she's not." Nick came from behind, spinning her around. "I know Frank's is not as polished as a French restaurant but even you can't go down there with your lab coat."

Sara looked down, noticing that she had forgotten to take off her lab coat. "I'm not coming to breakfast."

"Really?" Catherine joined them, already changed into something casual yet, as usual, tight. "Why is that? Don't tell me you want to review the Taubman case again."

"No." Sara shook her head, "I… I'm just… tired."

"Look, sweetie," Jim stood from the waiting bench he had been sitting on. "It's a rare opportunity. It's been a while since we ordered the same runny eggs and the skewed pancakes. You could sleep between bites." The detective winked.

Sara looked around; her friends were all there, ready to have fun. Yet all she wanted was to be alone, waiting for the second she could finally reach her husband.

It was funny how sometimes when Grissom was around she wanted to have a little time on her own. Then it was even funnier that when he wasn't around all she wanted was to hear his voice, all she wanted to do was to hug him and to be loved by him.

It was weird that when she was in Costa Rica and in Paris sometimes she missed Greg's laugh, Jim's punch lines, Nick's drawl, and even Catherine's antics. Then now, when she was in Vegas with them all, she wanted nothing to do but book a flight to Paris and make sure that Grissom was alright.

She sat on the waiting bench, held up her hands in surrender. "Guys, I'd love to have a breakfast with you."

"Good, then let's go have a six-weeks-late welcome-back breakfast." Nick drawled, playfully tugging at her lab coat.

"But I'm kinda busy right now. See, I've been trying to reach Grissom. And he-"

"Oh, no!" Someone exclaimed behind her, someone with an all too familiar voice.

Sara spun around, nearly giving herself whiplash.

There, standing at the entrance, the man she had been worrying about, clutching a briefcase in one hand and his jacket in another. His shirt slightly crumpled and his hair slightly askew, clearly had just been through a long journey. A dopey smile was plastered on his unshaven face.

"Hi," He waved, "I'm sorry, my phone-"

Grissom had no time to explain; Sara had thrown herself in his arms, hanging on to him like a lifeline.

"You are here, you're okay." She whispered, barely able to hold back tears.

"Yeah." His briefcase already dropped, he rubbed her back, kissing her forehead. "I got a call from USF, an invitation, and I miss you. I thought I could surprise you."

Sara buried her head in his chest, drawing deep breaths of relief. "I've been trying to call you."

"I'm sorry honey. I lost my charger and then there was this flight arrangement and this seminar material that I needed to review," He tightened his hold of her, finally recognizing his mistake. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"Ahem," Four people cleared their throats simultaneously behind them unwittingly causing the couple to break up.

Nick and Greg both grinned at them. Brass played it casual, smiling at his old friend. Catherine smirked, raising her brows and planted her hand on her hip.

"I'm glad that Romeo could meet his Juliette, but my stomach's screaming and I got to pick my Mom at eleven." Catherine quipped.

"Come on, your timing is perfect." Brass linked his arm around Grissom's shoulder, dragging him outside. "Breakfast's on me."

"You can resume your romantic reunion later." Nick playfully nudged Sara with his shoulder. "The bugman is ours this morning." He followed Brass with a smirking Catherine on his heels.

"Man, I can't believe Grissom is here!" Greg exclaimed as he came beside Sara. "Can I tell him about Mr. Taubman?"

Sara could only smile and nodded, picking her phone up and dialing Al's number.

"Al, I found him-" She smiled at Al's reply, eyes reverted to Grissom who was looking back at her and waved. "He's here, meet us at Frank's."

She waved back, smiling happily when Grissom blew her a kiss

Greg copied Grissom's motion and exaggeratedly stuck out his lips. "Tu me manques, ma chérie!" He shouted from the door, adding a big self-hug.

Sara laughed, freely, for the first time in days.

**EnD**

Thank you for reading until this last part, see you in another chance:)


End file.
